


the old bray of your heart

by reindeerjumper



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Blood and Injury, Caretaking, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Major Character Injury, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Working with your partner always has its advantages. For one, you can carpool together or walk to the office, side-by-side. Your days also go by a bit faster than they normally would, because every time you catch your partner’s eye, you basically know what they’re thinking. There isn’t any of the messiness of correlating schedules to meet for midday coffee, or the endless string of texts about when each of you will be home and what the other wants for dinner. Whether or not your hands lace together while on the job is nobody’s business but you’re own.Or, as Robin Ellacott found out, it could go spectacularly to shit.





	the old bray of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for all the love on my other cormoran & robin fics! i'm so glad to see this fandom gaining some speed, because it was a long, dry span of desert for a while.

Working with your partner always has its advantages. For one, you can carpool together or walk to the office, side-by-side. Your days also go by a bit faster than they normally would, because every time you catch your partner’s eye, you basically know what they’re thinking. There isn’t any of the messiness of correlating schedules to meet for midday coffee, or the endless string of texts about when each of you will be home and what the other wants for dinner. Whether or not your hands lace together while on the job is nobody’s business but you’re own. **  
**

Or, as Robin Ellacott found out, it could go spectacularly to shit. 

She hadn’t seen the knife. It was something that she would look back on in the months to come and cringe every time it crossed her mind. If it hadn’t been for Shanker, Cormoran very easily could have been killed. The attacker had lunged at him with the force of a lion, all bared teeth and wild eyes, the glint of the knife catching Robin’s eye just a second too late to shout out a warning. Luckily, Shanker was used to this kind of riff-raff, and he had quickly shoved Cormoran out of the way with a barbaric yell. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been quick enough, and instead of plunging into Cormoran’s heart, the blade sliced deeply across his torso, digging somewhere in between his third and fourth ribs. 

The sound of his cry, wounded and gutteral, was something that would haunt Robin’s dreams. Whenever these thoughts floated to the surface of her memory, she would try to shove them down, burying them under the good moments, like when Cormoran ruined her wedding, or when he told her he loved her as he drunkenly leaned against her on the way home from the pub. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

The rest of the moment was a frightening blur. After shoving Cormoran, Shanker had somehow managed to tackle the assailant and pin him to the ground. With shaky hands, Robin called the authorities while Cormoran pigheadedly tried to help Shanker restrain his attacker. Between Cormoran’s blood soaked hands and Shanker’s smaller frame, the man had managed to wriggle free. Clearly spooked, he had made a mad dash, running away from the three of them and disappearing around a corner before any of them could go after him.

Of course, once the authorities had shown up, Cormoran had lost a significant amount of blood. It had only been a matter of five or six minutes, but considering how deep the wound was, Shanker and Robin weren’t surprised. He was leaned against a rubbish bin, breathing heavily and haphazardly pressing dirty fingers into his open wound to try and staunch the flow. Robin was crouched in front of him, worry creasing her face as she valiantly tried to keep her voice calm and even. 

The doctors at the hospital kept Cormoran in the A&E until he was properly stitched up and feeling far less woozy than he had when he arrived. He had reassured Robin over and over again in the ambulance that he was fine, but his tongue was lazy, rounding his syllables and leaving big gaps between his words. Robin had worried that he’d need a transfusion, but the doctors had disagreed. The amount of blood on Cormoran’s shirt and the concrete surrounding him looked more alarming than it actually was, and Robin was relieved when they said they’d be releasing him.

Even though Robin spent the night at Cormoran’s far more frequently than she did at her own flat, they hadn’t  _officially_ moved in together. It was awkward, navigating whether or not she should give Cormoran his space or stay the night to make sure he was alright. He had protested ardently, saying he was fine and that everyone was overreacting, but she could see in his stony features that it really wasn’t the case. She shuffled him into a cab and gave the driver Cormoran’s address.

“Look, I won’t baby you, alright? I just want to make sure you get into the flat and have everything you need. You can tell me to shove off once you’re settled. I know you’re a big, strong man, but you’ve been  _stabbed_. At least grant me my peace of mind.”

Cormoran had scowled at her. He looked like a ridiculous mess, dried blood hardening the cotton of his button-down shirt and a smudge of blood on his cheek making him look like a rakish action hero. The driver had given them a bewildered look as they had settled into the backseat, but quickly took note of the address and zoomed off, not risking a word to either of them.

“Fine. You can come up to the flat. But I don’t want you mother henning me. I promise I’ll be fine.”

At this, Robin gave him a small, satisfied smile before slipping her fingers into his calloused hand, secretly thankful that it was scrubbed clean with hospital soap. Cormoran had given them a squeeze, a silent acknowledgement that he was grateful, before turning his head and contemplatively gazing out the window in silence. 

Once in the flat, Cormoran rubbed a hand across the back of his head as he let out a sigh. His eyes looked sad and somewhat guilty. He gave her a half-smile, wincing as he dropped his hand back down to his side. Robin bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Go grab a shower. I’m just going to rustle up some dinner for you, and then I’ll slip out.” 

Cormoran didn’t respond. He simply nodded before limping towards the bathroom. 

Robin knew his prosthesis must be killing him at this point. He also was probably starving, since it was now 7PM and they hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. And of course, the stab wound…that probably wasn’t too comfortable. She sighed before heading into the kitchen. She could hear the water turning on as Cormoran turned the knobs in the bathroom. Robin couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. As stubborn and callous as he could be, he had her heart in the palm of one of his massive hands. 

While Cormoran showered, Robin rooted around in his cabinets for something she could assemble into a meal. She settled on a box of penne pasta and half a jar of sauce. As the water came to a rolling boil, she heard Cormoran turn the water in the shower off and the shower curtain get pulled back. She poured the box of pasta into the water as the bathroom door banged open. She chanced a peek over her shoulder, and saw Cormoran limping towards his bedroom, a ratty looking towel tied around his waist and the crusty remnants of his clothes balled up in his arms. Her heart caught in her throat. 

As the sauce came to a bubble and the penne cooked to perfection, Robin leaned against the counter and cupped a mug of tea in her hands. Cormoran still hadn’t come out of the bedroom, and she was beginning to feel like she might be overstaying her welcome. They had only been dating officially for a month and a half, and this was the first time that work had bled into their relationship. 

Robin couldn’t help the protective clench that heaved in her chest at the thought of Cormoran being hurt. It was obvious now why he had responded so viscerally to her getting stabbed those few months prior. She had shrugged it off, told him she was fine, but now she realized just how much he cared for her, even before he admitted it. In a weird, twisted way, it was actually quite sweet. 

Turning back towards the stove, she assembled the pasta into two chipped bowls before pouring the sauce over. She mixed it all together with a fork before sprinkling a generous amount of cheese on top of each bowl. It was obvious that Cormoran wasn’t coming out again–Robin had no doubt that his prosthesis was a long forgotten memory at this point–so she carried the two bowls across the flat towards the bedroom. 

The door to Cormoran’s bedroom was open halfway and soft, warm light from his bedside lamp was spilling out into the hallway. Gently, Robin nudged the door open a bit more before standing in its opening. Cormoran was sitting on the bed in a pair of red tartan pajama pants and without a shirt. His head was tilted back onto the headboard behind him, his eyes closed and his hands folded on his stomach. From the doorway, Robin could see the white patch of bandage that the hospital had taped to Cormoran’s chest. It was tinged with the tiniest bit of brown, right in the middle of the pristine, white rectangle. 

Robin cleared her throat. Cormoran’s eyes snapped open and he immediately look towards where she was standing. She could see the tension drain out of his shoulders when he realized it was her.

“Forget I was here?” she said amusedly.

“I thought you left.”

Robin shook her head before asking, “Is it alright if I come in? I brought food.”

Cormoran’s stony disposition melted, and Robin felt herself breathe a little easier. His shoulders deflated as he patted the mattress next to him. “Of course it’s alright,” he murmured before scooting over to allow her to sit. 

Robin extended one of the bowls towards him, which he gratefully took. She slid her shoes off next to the bed before scooching her body up towards the top of the mattress. Settling her own bowl in her lap, she tucked into the penne with far more vigor than she had intended to. The hunger she had been keeping at bay all day suddenly reared its head with a force that couldn’t be tampered. 

The two ate in silence, the echo of forks against porcelain the only sound in the room. Once they were finished, Robin took the bowl from Cormoran and smiled. “I’ll just go pop these in the sink and then be on my way,” she said, sliding to the edge of the mattress. As she stood up, she heard Cormoran let out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” she said, turning back towards him. 

He looked at her dolefully, the darkness of his eyes glinting in the lamplight. His mouth was turned down, making him look like a curly-haired bulldog. She could see his hand fiddling with the comforter on the bed, his pointer finger and thumb pinching the fabric and then smoothing it out in monotonous repetition. 

“Cormoran? Are you alright?” she asked, panic creeping up her throat. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, dropping his gaze down to where his hand was still playing with the comforter. “It’s just…I’m sorry. About everything. About not seeing that arsehole with the knife, about bleeding all over your slacks, about making you worry. I know how that feels, seeing someone who you love get hurt, and it’s awful.” He swallowed before lifting his eyes to look at her. “I know I said I’d be fine–and I will be–but I’d really like if you stayed.”

Warmth bloomed in Robin’s chest as she grinned at him. “Of course I’ll stay, you idiot. Let me go wash these and I’ll be back.” She turned towards the door and made it to the threshold before stopping. Robin quickly turned back around and said, “Oh, bugger. I don’t have any pajamas or anything.”

Cormoran smiled at her and shook his head. “Top drawer on the right. I have a few t-shirts you can choose from.” 

“You’re a lamb. Be back in a second.” 

After washing the bowls, Robin double-checked the lock on the door and busied herself with turning all the lights off. Satisfied that they were safe and snug in the flat, Robin made her way back to Cormoran’s bedroom and pressed the door close behind her. Cormoran had taken the comforter and burrowed his way underneath it. He was watching her softly, drinking in the sight of her as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders before divesting herself of her trousers, bending over to pick them up and fold them before depositing them on a chair in the corner of the room. 

Robin could feel Cormoran’s eyes on her, and she threw a coy look over her shoulder at him. “What are you staring at?” 

“Just enjoying the view,” he said innocently as the corners of his mouth quirked up. 

Robin hummed in acknowledgement before turning towards the chest of drawers where Cormoran’s shirts were stored. She rummaged around in the top drawer before pulling out a well worn SIB shirt. It was incredibly soft and Robin could smell Cormoran in the threads. Turning her back to him, she unhooked her bra and unceremoniously tossed it onto the pile of her clothes before pulling the shirt over her head. She was swimming in it, the hem of it almost reaching her knees and the sleeves brushing the crooks of her elbows.

When she turned around to approach the bed, Robin let her eyes rest on Cormoran’s face. He looked tired–far more tired than he normally did–but his features were soft and warm. He was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. There was something about the way he was looking at her that made her breath catch in her throat. 

Without a word, he simply lifted the covers to invite her underneath. Robin slid in next to him, revelling in the warmth that emanated off of his body as she tucked in closer to him. Cormoran engulfed her body in one of his arms, pulling her in close to him. Robin went willingly. Careful to avoid his bandaging, Robin splayed a hand on his chest as she nestled into the crook of his arm, and she finally let out the breath she had been fighting against all evening. 

Sensing her relief at him being safe and in her arms, Cormoran pressed his lips to the top of her head, squeezing her just a little closer. Robin squeezed back as her head rested on the broad span of his chest. The hair on his chest tickled her cheek as her hand flexed against the skin that lay underneath. She closed her eyes in an attempt to try and commit this feeling to memory–the warmth of his skin underneath her cheek, the brush of his thumb against her hip, the scent of his skin embedded in the fabric of the shirt she was wearing. 

Beneath her ear, Robin could hear the steady, rhythmic thud of Cormoran’s heart. It was strong and obstinate, just like him, and she had to choke back the tears that crept onto her eyelashes. One escaped down her cheek, leaving a trail of moisture on her skin and pooling onto Cormoran’s chest. Realizing that she was crying, he leaned back a bit and beckoned her to look at him by gently cupping her chin in his hand. 

Robin allowed her gaze to be diverted up to where Cormoran sat, and she gave a quick sniffle before swiping at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. 

“Hey now, what’s all this?” he murmured as his brow furrowed. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she replied, embarrassed that she had let the emotion leak out.  _Some detective, crying like a baby._

“Robin, love, this doesn’t look like ‘nothing’. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just…happy. Relieved. I don’t know why I’m crying.” The words fell out of her in rapid fire, embarrassment urging them on like a horsewhip. She wiped another tear away and looked at her fingertips, pretending to be interested in the smudge of mascara that now was there. “I guess I was just really scared,” she finished lamely.

Cormoran laughed, the vibration of it rumbling against her. “Darling,” he said, the endearment sending a shock straight through her body, “I promise I’m alright. Never been more fit in my life.” He ran the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone before letting it come to rest on her jaw. He dipped his head and kissed her on the lips, his thumb still lingering on her skin. As he pulled away, he whispered, “Between the two of us, I cried a bit when you got stabbed, too.”

At this, Robin pulled back and laughed. “Don’t tease me!” she exclaimed, her eyes glittering with amusement.

“I swear it on Arsenal’s upcoming season. And for the record, it’s looking rather promising, so I wouldn’t just throw a statement out like that if I didn’t mean it.” He grinned at her. 

“I love you, you gigantic idiot,” Robin said. Cormoran’s grin grew wider before he pulled her into his chest with both arms. Robin went willingly, melting into his embrace as her cheek pressed against his chest.

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her hair. 

The steady thump of his heart lulled her to sleep, sending Morse code versions of his words into her dreams.


End file.
